Master Guy's voice, charged with electric excitement, boomed across the now-quieting arena. [ LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WHAT A DAY! WHAT A SPECTACLE! ]
The massive Light Box shimmered, displaying the faces of the four remaining contestants: the unshakable Master Albian, the coldly intense Lucius Frost, the wildly unpredictable Ixchel, and the center of the day's storm, Cassian Ahn.
[ We have witnessed history! We have seen the impossible become possible, and through fire and flavor, we have our FOUR culinary gladiators who will advance to the great Semi-Finals! ]
The crowd responded with a deafening wave of cheers and stomping feet that shook the very foundations of the Tholus Culinarius.
[ But let me be clear! ] Guy continued, his tone shifting to one of gravitas.
[ The battle for glory is not the only prize on this hallowed stage! Among these four, a single Champion will rise, it is true!
But the other three… yes, the other three have already secured a monumental achievement! They are now three of the final FIVE who will be granted the esteemed title of ROYAL COOK! ]
Another roar erupted from the crowd. The sheer scale of the accomplishment was staggering.
[ And what of our other four valiant competitors who fell today? ] Guy asked, the Light Box shifting to show Yuliana, Lior, Helene, and Eira.
[ Do not think their journey is over! The rules of the ICC are as merciful as they are merciless! A second chance awaits!
For aside from the ultimate Champion, who will earn the legendary title of Zhìzūn Dàshī—the Supreme Master—and the position of Chief Royal Cook, there remain two more seats at that prestigious table! ]
He pointed dramatically towards the four who had been defeated. [ These four brilliant cooks will battle tomorrow in a redemption round! They will fight for the last two spots, for the final two titles of Royal Cook! The stakes could not be higher! ]
He took a final, sweeping pause, letting the tension build to a fever pitch.
[ So, wait eagerly! For tomorrow, we crown the final two Royal Cooks and set the stage for the Semi-Finals! The Quarter-finals of the Imperial Culinary Certification are now… OFFICIALLY CONCLUDED! ]
With a final, resonant chime, the stage lights dimmed. The quarter-finals were over, but the path ahead was more brutal, and more glorious, than ever.
* * *
The air in the backstage area was a mix of exhaustion, triumph, and simmering tension. The contestants, both victorious and defeated, filtered in from the arena's roar into the comparative quiet.
The three Northern prodigies stood in a tight, quiet circle, while Helene spoke in low, respectful tones with Master Albian.
The moment was broken as Ji Hoon, followed by Yuliana and Lior, entered. They all came to an abrupt halt just inside the doorway, their eyes falling upon the disaster zone that was the prep kitchen.
It was a scene of frantic, last-minute alchemy. A fine dusting of pale pink Rosaline Flour coated every surface like magical pollen.
Bowls sat unwashed, a whisk lay abandoned in a lump of batter, and the air still held the faint, warm scent of browned butter and panic.
Ji Hoon stared at the mess, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. "I, uh... apologize for the mess," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "There was no time to clean up."
Lior barked a short laugh, slinging an arm around Ji Hoon's shoulders. "Oh, we can see that, brother. We can definitely see that. You left a warzone in here."
Before anyone could comment further, a clerk in a crisp green uniform entered, carrying a stack of papers.
He moved through the room, handing a single, formal-looking document to each contestant.
It was the same heavy parchment they'd received after the first round, detailing the next phase of the competition.
As they accepted the cards, the familiar clerk in blue—the one who had been their stoic guide—entered. He offered a shallow, formal bow.
"My congratulations to you all, whether you advance or prepare for your redemption," he began, his voice neutral.
"The documents you now hold outline your immediate path. For our four valiant competitors who did not secure a victory today," he said, with a nod to Yuliana, Lior, Helene, and Eira,
"you will find the date and time for your duel to claim one of the two remaining Royal Cook titles and those who can not make it in time will be eliminated. I hope you make it."
He then turned his gaze to the four semi-finalists: Albian, Lucius, Ixchel, and Ji Hoon. "For you, the information pertains to the Semi-Finals. Please read it carefully. A new rule has been instated for this round."
A hush fell over the room. The blue-clad clerk continued.
"The theme for the Semi-Finals is 'Patriotism.' You are to prepare a dish that represents your homeland. To that end, you are each permitted to source and bring a supplemental ingredient that you believe embodies your country. This ingredient must be submitted to the Ministry for safety and approval prior to its use. That is all."
With a final, curt bow, the clerk turned and exited, leaving the eight young cooks in a silence now charged with a new kind of pressure. The battle was no longer just about skill; it was about identity.
* * *
The colossal gates of the Tholus Culinarius closed behind them, the roar of the crowd fading into the gentle hum of the city of Aurora.
Stepping into the sunlight, Ji Hoon, Lior, and Yuliana blinked, the real world feeling strangely quiet after the arena's intensity.
"The sun's still high," Lior noted, stretching his arms with a groan. "We've got the whole day ahead of us."
Ji Hoon barely heard him. His mind was already racing ahead, circling the theme for the next round: patriotism.
A dish that represented one's country.
But what did that even mean for him?
Should he reach into his past life and present a Korean dish as his own?
Or did he have to find something in Valeria's culinary tradition he could call his own—a tradition he still knew so little about.
The question was a knot in his stomach.
"Hey," Lior's voice cut through his thoughts. "You two look like you could use a proper meal that doesn't come with a score. Wanna grab some lunch?"
Ji Hoon shook his head slightly. "I told my family I'd be back, but I have time."
Both of them then looked at Yuliana. She seemed to consider it for a moment, then gave a small, graceful nod, her smile just visible beneath her mask. "I have no pressing duties. I would like that."
"Great!" Lior beamed. "So, where to? You're the locals, name a place."
An awkward silence fell. Ji Hoon and Yuliana glanced at each other, then away.
Ji Hoon, because his knowledge of the city's eateries was practically zero.
Yuliana, likely because her life in the palace had insulated her from such casual choices.
Lior stared at them, then burst out laughing. "You've got to be kidding me! The two brightest culinary stars from the Valerian Empire, and neither of you knows a good lunch spot in your own capital? That's priceless!"
After a moment, Lior snapped his fingers. "I've got it. I know the perfect place. Follow me."
He led them to a carriage stand, giving the driver an address with confidence.
As the carriage began to move, Ji Hoon stared out the window, his thoughts a jumble of patriotism and ingredients.
His gaze drifted over the cityscape, and that's when he saw them.
The entire city was adorned with beautiful, pale pink flowers, their petals drifting in the breeze like a soft snowfall. They looked almost exactly like cherry blossoms.
Without thinking, he pointed. "Those flowers are beautiful. What are they a symbol of?"
The air in the carriage shifted instantly.
Lior and Yuliana both turned to look at him, their expressions a mix of pure disbelief and deep suspicion. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.
Lior finally broke it, his voice uncharacteristically flat. "Brother. You're joking, right? You can't be from this empire—no, from this world—and not know that."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. "That's the Imperial Bloom. It's on the flag."
Ji Hoon's blood ran cold. He opened his mouth, a dozen flimsy excuses forming on his lips—I hit my head, I was focused on my studies—but before he could utter a sound, the carriage jolted to a halt.
"We're here!" the driver called out.
The moment was frozen, the unasked question hanging heavily in the air between them as they stepped out, Lior and Yuliana's suspicious stares burning into Ji Hoon's back. He followed their gaze forward.
There it was, nestled between grander culinary shops: a small, unassuming diner with a warm, glowing sign. A sanctuary of normalcy, and now, the place where he would have to explain the inexplicable.
The diner was a world away from the gleaming marble and roaring crowds of the arena.
Pushing the creaking wooden door open, they were met by the warm, thick air of a hearth and the low hum of conversation.
The floor was worn stone, and the walls were paneled with dark, aged wood, stained slightly by decades of smoke and steam.
Heavy, rough-hewn tables were packed with patrons—city guards off their shift, merchants closing early, and laborers fueling up on hearty, simple food.
The scent was a comforting blanket of roasting meat, thick stew, and the earthy tang of ale from a large barrel in the corner.
As their eyes adjusted to the dim, fire-lit space, they saw a familiar figure weaving through the crowded room with practiced ease.
It was Ansen, his brow furrowed in concentration as he balanced a tray laden with foaming tankards.
He moved with a nervous energy, placing drinks at a table with a quiet, "Pardon me," before turning to hurry back to the kitchen.
It was in that turn that he saw them.
His tense, focused face transformed. A slow smile broke through, growing wider and brighter until it lit up his entire face, erasing the weariness.
He quickly finished his task and rushed over, his usual timidness replaced by genuine delight. "Lior! Yuliana! Cassian!" he whispered, his voice still low but filled with excitement.
"We're crashing your work," Lior said with a grin, clapping Ansen on the shoulder. "How you holding up?"
"I'm... managing," Ansen replied, his gaze dropping for a second before looking back at them. "How... how was your round today?"
The mood shifted. Lior and Yuliana's smiles became strained, their eyes drifting downward. The unspoken disappointment was answer enough.
Ansen's face fell. "Oh... all of you?" he asked softly.
Lior let out a short, wry laugh and slapped Ji Hoon on the back. "Not this fella. He passed. Somehow, with that crazy talent of his, he's in the semi-finals. We," he gestured between himself and Yuliana, "are fighting for the last two Royal Cook spots tomorrow."
The news seemed to buoy Ansen. "That's... that's really nice. For all of you," he said, his smile returning, sincere and encouraging.
"Please, take a seat! Let me get you a table. I just need to finish my shift, and then we can talk properly."
They agreed and let him guide them to a small, secluded booth in the back corner. As Lior and Yuliana settled in, Ji Hoon's gaze wandered around the bustling diner.
The clatter of plates, the murmur of satisfied customers, the simple, honest satisfaction of a meal well-served—it was a feeling he knew intimately from his past life, yet it was rooted deeply in the medieval soul of this world.
Sitting there, surrounded by the sounds and smells of a working-class eatery, a powerful sense of clarity washed over him.
The grand stage of the Tholus Culinarius was for proving a point, for achieving his dream, just a stepping point.
But this... this was different. This was the heart of cooking. This was where people came to be nourished, to find comfort, to share a moment of peace.
He looked around the warm, noisy, unpretentious room, and the dream that had been quietly simmering within him suddenly came into sharp, beautiful focus.
He would win his titles.
He would master the magical ingredients of Terra.
But more than anything, he would make his bakery's plan true.
Right here, in a place just like this, he would build it.
A place where the wonders of his two worlds could meet, not for glory, but for the simple, profound joy of a perfect pastry.
The thought settled in him, not as a wish, but as a promise.